


Pieces of Me

by TheMamaFox



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 14:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6119815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMamaFox/pseuds/TheMamaFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Post Trespasser spoilers) </p><p>Herah Adaar is having difficulty coping. Bull, that asshole (ex) spy who knows everything, of course does exactly what she needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces of Me

It had only been a few weeks since… since. Still mending, still hurting where it isn’t. The pulsing of magic she never wanted that has been removed in a way that took most of her fucking arm and she STILL can’t get rid of the feel of it?! Of fucking course. She wouldn’t let the mages touch her to help the healing. The last thing she needed on her was even more magic. 

Skyhold was much quieter now. Three years of battles, physical and political, and now the Inquisition is no more and the former Inquisitor is idle. The others call it “resting”. She wanted to hit something. Hard. Preferably Solas’ face. 

Instead she’s alone in her tower room and staring at her bow propped against the dresser. All it does is remind her of all she can’t do now yet she hasn’t had the will to pack it away, or ask Bull to. Should she sell it? She loves… loved that damn bow. 

“FUCK!” 

“Whoa now Kadan. Don’t get carried away without me.” Herah turns to see first The Iron Bull’s horns then face appear over the stair railing. 

“Bull…”

“…I know Kadan. It’s still fresh. Be angry.”

“No issue there.” She turns back to glare at her bow. 

Iron Bull walks over to where she sits on their big bed and takes his place beside her, angling his long horns to not lock with hers. “Want to talk about it?”

Herah shook her head. What could she really say that he hasn’t already have figured out, like always? ‘Ben-hassrath training remember?’ Asshole. Spy that. 

Bull shifts and bumps his large shoulder to hers. She turns to him and sees the glint of his eye patch first. They are both missing important pieces of themselves. His is still a weakness even if he laughs it off, a blind spot. He smiles wide at her, leading over to tap his horn to hers. 

She doesn't smile back, instead she looks down at her fist on her knee. “How long… did it take to get used to it? To your eye… your fingers just not being there anymore?” 

How many times has she tried to reach out for a cup or a door handle only to find the stump of her arm hanging in the space between? 

How many times has she tried to reach back for the bow that should be on her back? 

How many more times will she feel the punch in her gut for everything that used to be easy and isn’t anymore? 

He doesn’t answer right away and she looks up at him to gauge his reaction. He is just looking at her, almost sad like he wasn’t trying to hide it. His eye never leaves her face and he quietly asks just two words. “Trust me?” 

Of course she does. One simple nod. He shifts to face her and placed his hands on her cheeks. He kisses her softly once before moving on. His hands slide to her neck and down over her chest. Her simple shirt was already unbuttoned (because buttons are hard enough when you have two large hands…) and he pushed it from her shoulders swiftly. She doesn’t have the nerve to joke about his skill right now. He didn’t even give her breasts a squeeze like he normally would. This is serious business apparently. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted what was coming. 

His hands were soft. He first lifts what is left of her right arm between them, holding it gently aloft while his other hand takes hers. He gives her hand a small squeeze and she looks up at him. “Trust me.” Not a question this time. 

 He rests her hand on her shoulder and then slowly guides it down her arm to where it stops and curves under where it should continue past the elbow. Herah’s eyes follow the path her hand is taking, really seeing what was there … and not …. for the first time. She’s avoided touching it, avoided looking while others replaced the bandages in the beginning or while Bull helped her bathe. She put on her shirts by feel. Bull had carefully rolled and pin all her shirts at just the right length so she wouldn’t have a loose sleeve dangling. Asshole spy training again, or just simple caring. Both. She loved him so much. 

He rests there, just letting her feel. Her fingers were barely touching skin, still afraid of the lingering pain. The scabs and scar tissue were rough now but time would smooth them. She traces the short lines with her finger tips. The surgeon, the one who believed in medicine beyond magic, did pretty damn good. Herah would thank her later. Finally she rests what would be her elbow in her palm and takes a deep breath. 

Bull caught her eye and gave her a small smile. “We didn't give up body parts for nothing. I lost my eye saving Krem, you lost your arm saving the world. Twice. It won’t feel like it, maybe ever but it seems fair all the way around to me.”

“World’s not completely saved yet.”

“True.” He paused for only a breath. Herah suspects he has already thought of what he says next. “Maybe Varric can talk with his lady friend. She can craft something that can be used one handed, with a harness for your arm.” 

“That is a great idea. That damn Dread Wolf needs something to worry about.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm completely in love with the little cross bow they show the Inquisitor have in the epilogue if you take Sera's offer to be a Red Jenny. Seems like something Bianca would have a hand in. Pun intended. :P


End file.
